


The Secret Life of Mrs. Prudence Stanley

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen, MFMM Flashfic Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: I was not going to participate in flashfic today but then I saw this title and this popped into my head. Forgive any typos. I was trying to make the deadline.





	The Secret Life of Mrs. Prudence Stanley

“Ah, you wouldn’t like it, Mother,” Guy said, with the condescension of a pat on the head. “It’s made with figs.”

Prudence made a face of disgust and continued on with the party preparations. Guy clearly thought her a doddering old fool and she saw no reason to disabuse him.

Let him think her oblivious to his tomfoolery. She’d grumble about the excessive amount of champagne, appear scandalized by his fiancee’s choice of costume (or lack thereof) and generally disapprove of everything.

It’s what they all expected.

She’d been the same at their age—well, maybe not at Guy’s age, her son really should be showing a bit more maturity by this point, but perhaps his lacking in that area was her own fault. She’d indulged him and continued to do so.

She’d always felt a nagging guilt that Guy received short-shrift growing up, but Arthur had taken up so much of her time and energy, there just hadn’t always been enough of her to go around.

Guy had faced a million little disappointments through the years when his brother’s needs had come first at the expense of his own. While Prudence would never regret keeping Arthur with them she couldn’t help but wonder if in return for that choice, and the sacrifices it required, she’d spoilt her other son rotten.

She blamed her guilt, but in truth, she wasn’t sure she’d have behaved any differently regardless. Oh, she loved Arthur with all her being but Guy, with his bright and precocious ways, had stolen her heart the day he was born.

He was always a handful, especially when his cousin Phryne was around to encourage his wild behavior, but Prudence had never been able to bring herself to scold either of them too harshly.

When the two of them were together she was reminded too strongly of her own youth and the capers she and Phryne’s mother used to get up to together.

Young people today liked to think they invented fun. She and Margaret had probably been the same, unable to imagine their aged parents as ever having had a life of anything but dull and proper drudgery.

But no one is born old and there were times when Prudence still felt like the young girl she’d once been. The one that would wake her sleeping sister so they could creep out of the house at night to go dancing, or meet boys at the foreshore, then gobble down mints to mask the scent of alcohol and cigarettes before sneaking back to their beds.

Quite often through the years Prudence had wished Margaret were closer and that her terrible rogue of a husband hadn’t taken her so far away. Henry had been fun in his day, but that’s all he was ever supposed to be! A bit of fun. Prudence was aghast when Margaret proclaimed herself in love, and had predicted the hardships ahead, but Margaret would not be dissuaded.

At least now her sister was finally financially comfortable, and having her daughter nearby helped Prudence feel the distance between them less keenly.

Phryne still had a way of testing Prudence’s patience, but she had grown into a lovely and accomplished woman, and was socially accepted despite her rather unconventional ways. Prudence was really rather proud of her. Sometimes she wished she’d had the courage to shake off expectations and live her life with such freedom. But she wouldn’t give up the life she’d had with her wonderful husband or either of her two sons for all the freedom in the world.

A ruckus out of doors drew Prudence to the kitchen. Phryne and those rabble rousers of hers were tearing about the lawn. She didn’t even want to know what that was about.

She turned back to continue her inspection of the silverware in the dining room.

The tin of Guy’s fudge lay open on the table.

She glanced about her to make sure she was alone. Prudence plucked a small piece of fudge from the tin, then another, wrapped both up in a napkin and stuffed them into her pocket.

“Figs, indeed,” Prudence said aloud. “How stupid do they think I am?”


End file.
